


shark-infested waters

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Sharks, Sweet, light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Eren gives Jean advice on how to woo Mikasa.ORCollege students Jean, Eren, and Mikasa are on a marine biology summer internship. Jean has a raging crush on Mikasa. Or does he?
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 9
Kudos: 184





	shark-infested waters

“What’re _you_ doing this summer, Kirstein?” asks Reiner as they walk down from their fourth-floor rooms in the dorms.

“I’m working on an ocean cruise.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m heading back to the beaches!” It’s a marine biology internship, actually. But Jean’s lacrosse teammate doesn’t need to know that.

As a kid, Jean was obsessed with sharks. He collected every bit of information about them he could and spent all his pocket money on things like shark tooth fossils and shark “eggs”. He had a row of shark books on his bookshelf. When he was eight, he took an afterschool class where he dissected a shark. He still remembers the huge shark liver that took up so much of the insides. The obsession faded over time but never fully disappeared, and his shark paraphernalia continued to take over his room until 9th grade.

He doesn’t recall why the lacrosse team came over that afternoon. All the guys ended up in his room, and soon they were pawing through the shark stuff like it was part of a museum exhibit for toddlers, created solely for them to take apart with their thick, careless fingers. They brought his fake shark eggs out to the yard and used them as lacrosse balls until they disintegrated. Jean was “The Shark,” until the end of the year, and the name on his teammates’ lips was never a compliment. So Jean doesn’t talk about sharks with any of his college buddies.

“Leave it to Jean to figure out how to spend a summer surrounded by chicks in bikinis,“ says Reiner, shaking his head in awe at Jean’s apparent manly genius. He winks salaciously at Jean, adding, “Am I right, or am I right?”

“As always, man,” says Jean. Reiner is a complete idiot, but he’s a beast on the lacrosse field, so who cares if he says stupid shit?

Jean takes a deep breath of the salty ocean air. It always brings with it the memory of that first trip to the aquarium, when he was 7. Since it was just him and his mom back then, they always did what Jean wanted, limited only by funds, and of course he chose something to do with sharks. They had packed up the car and she had driven through the night while Jean slept in the back seat, dreaming of dorsal fins and rows of teeth. They had spent the first two glorious days of their vacation wandering through the aquarium, and the remaining three at the beach.

The smell of the ocean always immediately brings Jean back to that magical first trip.

He’s been dropped off by the airport bus and is waiting with two of the other five interns to be told where to go next. His companions are snoozing against each other. So far, they haven’t offered anything up in the way of conversation aside from a muttered “Wassup?” when he first arrived.

He looks around him. Reiner would be happy here. Jean’s pretty psyched himself. What a view! Plenty of females wearing bathing suits and little else.

Like that one over there. Jean smirks and elbows the intern next to him, the brown-haired one. He’s gotta want to wake up for the sight of this!

“Look at that chick!” He points to a young woman walking towards them along the sidewalk, a black-haired beauty in a bikini top and very short shorts. She stops for a moment, bending over to fiddle with a sandal strap, her bikini top hanging loose on her chest. Jean’s mouth drops open. He feels saliva pool under his tongue, and he snaps his jaw shut, swallowing hard.

“That is one hot piece of-“ Bam! The punch stops Jean in mid-sentence. 

“What the hell?” Jean asks muzzily. He can feel blood trickling down his chin.

“That’s my sister, you prick!”

“Oh. Sorry! Really?” Jean glances at the guy, who looks nothing like the paragon of beauty now walking their way again. “But she’s so _hot_ -“ he starts to say, before he catches the guy’s full throttle glare.

“I mean, she looks really nice,” he finishes lamely.

The guy – Eren, according to the name tag on his shirt – scowls at him, his fists still raised.

Jean puts up a hand. “Take it easy, man. I said I was sorry. Don’t hit me again.”

“Or what? You’ll _smirk_ at me?”

“No, I’ll hit you back. A lot harder than you hit me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Jean is still working his jaw – it’s going to be painful later on – and he doesn’t realize that Eren has stood up until his hand is on Jean’s shirt and he is yanking Jean upright.

“Go ahead and do it now, shithead. If you think you can take me.”

Sparks are flying out of Eren’s eyes, which, Jean notices idly, are an unusually vibrant shade of green. Eren is drawing his fist back.

“What the hell, man?” Jean asks. Is this how he wants to start his summer internship? Fighting? But he’s not about to be a sitting duck again. That punch hurt. He twists away and pulls his own fist back, slamming it into Eren’s stomach. Eren stumbles backwards, surprise etched on his face. He nearly falls over the other intern, who is now up on his feet, yelling something that Jean doesn’t catch through the rush of blood to his head.

And then there’s a blur of movement from down the street, a flash of limbs and swinging black hair. Is it that woman? It is! She’s right in front of him. Holy crap! She does a spin kick with one of her amazing legs. There’s a searing pain in his side and Jean is on his knees, all the breath knocked out of him.

She stands over him like a freaking Valkyrie, not a hair out of place, breathing easily, and says to the gasping, choking wreck that is Jean, “Keep your hands off my brother.”

Sheesh. What is up with this family? Unbelievable. But this magnificent creature is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his life, like a real, live Black Widow. He’s going to get her out on a date if it’s the last thing he does during this internship, Eren be damned.

They have all trooped onto the boat and are just finishing up orientation from one of the graduate students, Rico Brzenska.

“That’s about it,” she says. “Oh, right. I almost forgot. You’ll be working in pairs for most of the summer. We sorted you into partners based on the interests you expressed on your applications.”

Jean looks up hopefully, his eyes flickering over to the black-haired woman, whose name is Mikasa. He sends a silent prayer heavenwards. If they are partners…

“Mikasa Ackerman and Annie Leonhart, Armin Arlert and Connie Springer. And, let’s see, who’s left?” Jean’s heart sinks. “Right. Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein.”

No fucking way! Jean makes a noise of protest in his throat, but Rico is half out the door, saying, “Dinner’s at 6. You’re free to wander around the wharf until then.”

Eren is scowling into his lap, his face a black cloud.

They stay on the boat a bit longer, to thumb through the information in their welcome packets.

“We get to tag sharks!” says Jean with amazement, staring at the page in front of him.

“What?”

“Look! On page 12! It’s optional, but we can if we want.”

The sound of rustling pages.

“That’s so cool! I’m definitely doing that,” says the same voice. Jean, an enormous smile on his face, looks up just as Eren does, his face the mirror image of Jean’s.

They realize at the same time that they’re smiling at each other, and both of them immediately drop their eyes.

Each pair ends up being assigned to a different grad student, so Jean and Eren are going to spend most of their time together, and apart from the other interns. Jean sighs when he realizes this. How the hell is he going to get close to Mikasa like this?

One of their first assignments is to input a small data set on shark migratory patterns and play around with it, get used to some of the numbers. More formal analysis will come later.

“So, uh, how should we do this?” Jean asks.

“They gave us the template spreadsheet; we just have to plug in the data. I can read out the numbers, and you type?”

“That sounds good,” says Jean. It does. He’s surprised Eren is acting in such a serious and professional manner.

Once everything is typed in and double-checked, they start running informal queries.

“Look at how the numbers changed since the prior year,” says Eren, leaning across Jean to get a better look at the screen. “What was the link to that website they gave us, the one with the seal and sea lion populations on it? It might be fun to compare the different sets.”

“Good idea,” says Jean. It’s nice to have someone as nerdily interested in this stuff as he is.

A few weeks in, and they’ve observed several live shark taggings, as well as practiced themselves, on a dummy. They are finally being allowed to perform the procedure themselves.

Rico, with Dr. Zoe in close attendance, is supervising them. In a cleanly coordinated effort, Jean and Eren have together secured the lines holding the shark and marked down all relevant details, including the shark’s measurements and identifying marks. They are now ready for the final steps. They had decided in advance that Eren would take the tissue sample and Jean would insert the tag, with a plan to reverse roles the next time around.

It goes smoothly, with no injuries to the shark’s spine or fin that they can see.

“Nicely done,” says Rico, once they have watched the shark swim easily away.

It _was_ nicely done, Jean thinks. They worked extremely well together. And he just tagged a live shark! For real! 

He turns to face Eren, to congratulate him and also to thank him for letting Jean do the first tag. They are standing right next to each other, and this close up Eren’s eyes are enormous, great pools of blue-green reflecting off both the water and the sky. Something zings down Jean’s spine, and he shivers. He chalks it up to the thrill of tagging a shark. The first of many, he hopes.

The next time all the interns are together, he can’t help bragging to Mikasa about the shark tagging. She listens politely then turns away. Jean frowns. There’s got to be something he can do to get her attention.

Eren is on the couch, reviewing some of the numbers. He’s biting his lip like he does when he’s concentrating, and Jean decides that he doesn’t want to disturb him, after all. He swings around to leave, but Eren looks up and says, “Hey, Kirstein.”

“Hey, Jaeger,,” says Jean, turning back.

“What’s up?” asks Eren.

“Um,” says Jean, blushing.

“What?” says Eren impatiently.

“How can I get your sister to notice me?” Jean blurts out.

“I’m assuming you mean in a good way?” Eren answers drily. “She’s already noticed certain… other… qualities about you.”

“Yeah, of course I mean in a good way,” says Jean. He adds dreamily, “She’s so beautiful. Do you think she’d ever go on a date with someone like me?”

Eren gives him a considering look.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head.

“Come on, Jaeger, I’m serious.”

“I’m not giving advice to someone who basically said my sister was a hot piece of ass when he first saw her.”

“I’m, um, really sorry about that. Your sister is beautiful and smart and like a goddess and I just want to take her out and make her laugh, okay? I promise.” He sits down on the couch and looks at Eren with what he hopes is a sincere and honest expression on his face.

Eren sighs. “You’re not the first one to voice those sentiments. You know she’ll beat the crap out of you if you try anything stupid, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” says Jean, unconsciously rubbing his side, where Mikasa had kicked him that first day. He still has the faint traces of a bruise there.

Eren snorts. “Ok, then. It’s just common sense. Talk to her like a human being.”

Jean looks at him doubtfully.

“You can ask her what classes she’s taking next year. Or why she’s doing this internship. Or even what her favorite ice cream is. That’s a good one because it so easily leads to an ice cream date.”

Jean frowns, puzzled. Is it that easy?

“You really are a douchebag, aren’t you?” Eren mutters under his breath. This seems to be a rhetorical question, so Jean doesn’t try to answer it.

“Fine,” Eren says. “I’ll take one for the team. Try it out on me.”

‘What?”

“Go on. Stretch your conversational wings.”

Jean’s eyebrows crease. Is Eren telling Jean to _practice_? With _him_?

“I don’t need to _rehearse,”_ he says, offended.

“You don’t? How are you doing with your current skill level, then?”

Jean glowers at him.

“I’m just trying to help you out, man,” says Eren. Jean can’t quite get rid of the feeling that Eren is laughing at him. But perhaps some help is worth the price of Eren’s mockery. The summer is more than half over, and he’s made no headway with Mikasa whatsoever.

“Okay,” Jean sniffs. He can pretend Eren is Mikasa. He squints, trying to superimpose Mikasa’s face onto the figure before him. He can’t quite do it, though. They’re too different: Mikasa, a cool, elegant ice queen, and Eren all pent-up, fiery energy bleeding into the air around him.

He clears his throat. Unfortunately, thinking about Mikasa causes him to immediately forget all of Eren’s advice, in particular the conversational prompts he recommended. So Jean wings it.

“Whaddya do for fun around here?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows it’s the most moronic, meathead thing he could possibly have said. It’s a line straight out of _Reiner’s_ playbook, for god’s sake. He doesn’t really blame Eren for laughing out loud.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says. “But at least stop with the smirking. It looks ridiculous, and Mikasa hates that kind of shit.”

“What do you mean, ‘the smirking’? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” snaps Jean angrily.

“The lip curling thing,” explains Eren.

Jean looks at him blankly.

Eren contorts his face into a horrible, lopsided grimace.

Jean involuntarily rears back. Eren looks grotesque, like he’s the Joker in the last stages of frozen psychosis.

“I don’t look like that!” he says in horror. He sure as heck hopes not, anyway. “I’m not going to do this if you’re just going to make fun of me.”

“Okay.” Eren swallows the last of his laughter. “Um. How about this. Pretend I’m _your_ sister. What would you say to me if I was your sister?”

An image immediately rises in Jean’s mind of Cecile barging into his room uninvited and parking herself on his neatly made bed to read her latest manga, because her own room is such a pigsty. 

“Get the hell out of my room,” Jean growls. But he’s smiling when he says it, because thinking about his little sister reminds him of home and happy things. He feels more relaxed. Eren looks relaxed too, laughing again, but _with_ Jean this time instead of at him.

“Perhaps not your sister, then. Pretend I’m a girl you’re not into. Annie?” 

Jean shudders. “No way. Annie is even scarier than Mikasa.” Even as he says this, he finds himself thinking that it is not so very difficult to imagine Eren as a girl. He really is quite beautiful, aesthetically speaking, what with those extraordinary eyes and all. What color are they, anyway? It seems to change depending on the quality of the light. They look darker, here, inside, than they do out on the water, more of a rich, deep-sea green.

He realizes that Eren is talking again, and snaps back to attention. “What?”

Eren exhales loudly. He looks upwards briefly, and Jean may have heard a faint, “Why me?” muttered under his breath before he says, “I’ll demonstrate for you.”

Jean doesn’t have time to ask what this means before Eren says, easily, “Hey Jean. What are you majoring in?”

Before he has time to think too much about it, Jean finds himself responding in kind. “I’m not quite sure yet,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it will probably be econ, but maybe business studies.”

“Interesting,” says Eren. “So, you’re planning on an entrepreneurial career?”

“Well, I’m not fully decided, but I think so, yeah. I definitely want to line up a decent job for after college.”

Eren cocks his head. “Why do this internship, then? If you’re leaning towards a career in business?”

“I need credits for graduation.”

“This is a lot of work,” Eren says. “I’m sure you could have found an easier way to build up graduation credits?”

“Well, also, I’ve… always been interested in sharks.”

“Huh,” says Eren thoughtfully, but he doesn’t press.

Jean finds himself wanting to explain further. “I was pretty obsessed with them when I was younger. You know, one of those annoying kids who spouts useless random facts about sharks to anyone who won’t put their hands over their ears and run away.” He goes on to tell Eren about the vacations at the aquarium, and the shark fossils, and all the shark videos he watched, Eren giving encouraging nods and smiles as he does so.

“You want to try?” Eren asks, after Jean has finally trailed off into silence.

“Try what?” asks Jean.

“Starting a conversation,” says Eren, like he’s talking to an idiot.

Right. Jean has forgotten that this is conversation _practice_. In preparation for him talking to Mikasa.

“Oh,” says Jean. “Yeah. Sure. Um.” He frowns slightly. “Why are _you_ here?”

“For Mikasa,” Eren says promptly. “Our dad wouldn’t let her come alone.”

“Why not?”

“Because he has this ridiculous idea that she needs protection.”

Jean snorts.

“I know,” agrees Eren. “He’s obviously mistaken about that. But her birth parents were killed when she was younger, and he’s way overprotective of her.”

“Jeez, what happened?”

“Ah. That’s her story to tell.”

Although he’s disappointed not to get more information, Jean likes that Eren respects Mikasa’s privacy.

But he’s also curious about Eren now. There has to be more to it than just accompanying Mikasa. Like Jean, Eren is plainly a shark nerd.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Eren’s face crinkles into a grin.

“No.”

Jean waits expectantly.

“I was also the kid who babbled random shark gibberish until people screamed at me to shut up.” He pauses. “I think that’s why Mikasa chose this internship. I had a bad breakup last year, and she was pretty sick of all my moping.”

“Your girlfriend dumped you?” Jean asks sympathetically.

“Sort of. It was kind of mutual, but he was the one who actually ended things.”

Jean immediately drops his eyes. He can’t stop a flush from rising on his cheeks. He says, in a deliberately even tone, “That sounds rough.”

Eren doesn’t seem to notice any change.

“Yeah. He said I was too volatile.”

Jean can’t help smiling at this.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Eren. “I know he had a point.” He lightly punches Jean’s shoulder. “Whose side are you on here, anyway?”

Whose side indeed? Jean feels like he can’t quite catch his bearings. Not only has he just found out that Eren dates guys – and seems perfectly comfortable with it, by the way - since when did Jean stop thinking of him as the Ultimate Asshole and start thinking he was Kind Of A Cool Guy?

“To be honest, Marco is a jerk and it was probably good that things ended. It still sucked to get dumped, though. I was taking a really long time to get over it. Mikasa denies it, but I think she set the whole summer plan up to help shake me out of my slump. Because she knows I can’t resist anything shark-related.”

Jean is still trying to sort through this rapid influx of information. He has always considered himself to be an open-minded person; nonetheless, the idea of Eren being gay, or at least bi, has thrown him for a complete loop. He had simply never considered the fact that Eren could be attracted to guys. It leaves a strange feeling in his stomach.

“See?” says Eren cheerily, breaking the mood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Talking like a human being?”

“Nah,” says Jean. “It wasn’t.” Not only did the conversation flow well, it was also illuminating, if somewhat unsettling.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes.

“You know, you’re not as bad as I first thought you were,” Eren says thoughtfully.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I give you my blessing.”

“What?”

“To ask Mikasa out. Who knows? You two might hit it off, after all.”

“I hope so," says Jean fervently. He's happy to receive encouragement. It’s a lot better than getting punched. He gives a half-smile to Eren.

And then, he’s not sure, but he thinks Eren winks a very tiny wink at him. A jolt shoots down his spine, hot and hard, just like when they were tagging the shark. He mumbles something and gets up to leave, wondering why the hell he’s blushing.

“You do an awful lot of studying for a filler class,” says Eren, coming up behind Jean.

Jean murmurs something unintelligible. He’s under no obligation to explain himself to Eren. But then, unaccountably, he finds himself wanting to explain. “I’ve never really understood this bit about their behavior.”

“What is it?” Eren leans over, putting one hand on Jean’s shoulder, the other leaning in so he can follow the text with his index finger. He is so close that Jean can smell the salty ocean smell on him, can follow the clean, strong line of his arm down to the bony wrist, the nimble finger. He is mesmerized by the sight.

When Eren finishes reading the passage, he says, “Huh. I never knew that. Interesting.” He gives Jean’s shoulder a light squeeze, then steps away. There is a tingling sensation on Jean’s shoulder that lingers for some time after Eren has left.

Mikasa is sitting by the campfire by herself. It is the perfect opportunity. Jeans plunks himself down, not sitting too close. He doesn’t feel in the least bit nervous.

“So, what’s your major?” he asks her casually. “At school?”

It’s not as easy as talking with Eren. Mikasa is far more tight-lipped. All the same, he eventually coaxes a few answers out of her. It’s pleasant, sitting and chatting here. She has some interesting things to say. And realizing that he has none of the flashing, sparkling nerves he feels around Eren allows the final piece of the puzzle to lock into place.

It’s been two weeks since the campfire conversation with Mikasa. Two weeks of furtive glances at Eren’s hair, his nose, his forearms, his skinny calves. Two weeks of Jean noticing every single minute detail about Eren fucking Jaeger.

“Hey, Eren. You busy?”

“Just writing,” murmurs Eren, typing on his computer. “But I could take a break. What’s up?”

He looks at Jean, and Jean’s throat goes dry. All of a sudden, he’s not sure he has the nerve. But there’s only one more week of this internship. If he doesn’t do something now, he never will. And doing nothing doesn’t feel like a viable option to him anymore. He forces himself to open his mouth and just _start a conversation._

“What’s-” He stops and swallows. Eren is staring up at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

“What’s. Uh. What’s your. Um. What’s your favorite, uh, kind of ice cream?”

Eren gives him a funny look. “Coffee. Are you looking for Mikasa? She should be back later this evening.” He turns back to his computer.

“No, um, I’m, uh, I’m asking, uh, _you,_ uh, um-” 

Eren looks back up at him, frowning. “You okay, Kirstein?” 

But the script has come to an end, and Jean is floundering. Isn’t the other person supposed to start asking questions now? Jean is annoyed. Eren should know that. It’s _his_ script, after all. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what _my_ favorite flavor is?” Jean says, giving full vent to his irritation at the thick-headed numbskull in front of him.

“Why would I do that?” asks Eren, clearly baffled.

“Because, it’s your turn, you moron,” says Jean.

“My turn for what?” asks Eren.

“It’s your turn to move the conversation along,” Jean points out.

“My turn to do _what_?”

Shit. Oh, shit. Shit-shit-shit. Eren doesn’t get it. Jean could just plow forward and start asking about Eren’s major instead. But by this point his courage has failed him. Without it, he doesn’t have the strength to keep sending out feeble verbal cues to this idiotic knucklehead.

“Nothing-bye-Eren-gotta-go-see-you-have-fun-working.”

Jean flees.

He spends the next three days studiously avoiding Eren. It’s surprisingly easy. The final paper has to be handed in before they leave at the end of the week, so everyone is working like mad. Jean mostly brings his stuff to the coffee shop and works there.

He is, in fact, at the coffee shop, downing his third cup of decaf, when someone plops into the chair opposite him. Without looking up, Jean moves his computer so it is only taking up half of the space on the rickety table. 

“What’s _your_ favorite flavor of ice cream?”

Jean looks up, confused.

“What’s _your_ favorite flavor of ice cream?” Eren repeats. He has a focused, determined expression on his face, rather like when he was taking the tissue sample from the shark.

“Jaeger," says Jean, nodding briefly at Eren as he quickly closes his laptop and stuffs it into his backpack. 

“Answer my question,” says Eren, grabbing Jean’s wrist before he can leave. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“If you must know, it’s mint chocolate chip,” says Jean loftily. Eren’s probably not fooled by his tone of voice, however, given that he still has a firm grip on Jean’s wrist, which has started to tremble. 

“Do you wanna come with me to get some now?” asks Eren, in a stiff, unnatural voice.

Jean stares at him.

“Do you wanna come with me to get some now?” repeats Eren doggedly, in the same robotic monotone.

Eren’s obvious nervousness has a paradoxically calming effect on Jean. He feels something crack inside his chest and all of a sudden his hands stop trembling and a strange calm floods his body.

“Is that how _you_ do it, Jaeger?” he is able to say, his eyebrow raised. “And you thought _I_ needed practice?”

Eren blushes but stands his ground, refusing to be sidetracked. “Do you?” he demands.

Jean looks at Eren deliberately. He briefly considers trying to make Eren squirm, make him suffer for Jean’s last three days – weeks! – of misery. But his heart is thumping so loudly, and he feels like he wants to burst into song, to actually leap up on this poor excuse of a table and tap dance his feelings out.

“Yes,” he says.

“You do?” asks Eren. He has the nerve to look surprised

“Well? What did you expect?” asks Jean. “I practically asked you first. You knew I wanted to. You don’t get any points for this one!”

Eren snorts lightly and smiles with eyes that are blue or green or gold, or a mix of all three, like the Caribbean Sea on a clear day. Jean feels like he’s going to get lost in those eyes and disappear forever, and he doesn’t fucking care. He’s flying so high he lets out a wild gulp of laughter, and then he grabs Eren’s hand and squeezes, and Eren squeezes right back.

As they sit and eat ice cream, beaming at each other, Jean can't help wondering what this means, and whether they can possibly overcome the logistics of time and space and college requirements. But there are planes and cars and buses and trains and phones and the internet. And he can’t worry about that now, anyway, not when Eren’s hand is holding his, and Eren’s eyes are right in front of him, pinning him down in the moment.

On the way back to the boat, Eren yanks Jean into an alley and backs him against the wall, pushing his wiry body into Jean’s. He curls his hands in Jean’s shirt, pulling Jean’s face down and pressing his mouth against Jean’s. It’s the most delicious thing Jean has ever tasted in his life, Eren’s mouth, all sweet from the ice cream but also wet, hot, and with a kick to it, like coffee laced with sugar and alcohol, only one hundred, one thousand, one million times better.


End file.
